


Parallels of (One, Two)

by orphan_account



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wakes up in the dark and realizes with an ascending terror this isn’t a dream, this isn’t a nightmare, and there is no black cat to save her here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallels of (One, Two)

Laura wakes up in the dark. 

She wakes up in the dark and realizes with an ascending terror this isn’t a dream, this isn’t a nightmare, and there is no black cat to save her here. 

The dark is suffocating, but maybe that’s just the dirt filling the space she does not. 

*** 

You’re not one for noticing the delicate balance of the Universe, you may be a philosophy major, but the rhythm of the world is something you stopped paying attention to a long time ago. However, you come back from a hunt, and as soon as you’re back on campus, all senses heightened and alert, inherently you know something is wrong. 

It’s a specific underlay of panic that corrals your every sense and you’re back in your dorm room before you can make sense of it all. Being in your dorm room does you no favours, and it takes you more than couple seconds to process the calculated destruction, the limp form of – you pause, everything slowing until you realize that the person splayed across Laura’s bed is far too gangly to be your roommate. 

There’s a cautious step forward, and you see Danny splayed across the bed, two ragged tears in her neck exposed and dripping. Your stomach clenches and you straighten again, looking for Laura, for any sign of Laura. 

But none. 

You’re about to run, to search and tear this campus apart when Danny shifts and you hear her groaning. It takes you a moment more to comprehend that it’s Laura’s name with every utterance there’s an increasing frenzy undertoning her voice.

You sink onto Laura’s bed, watching as Danny barely shift, barely opens her eyes to see what’s coming for her next. You can hear her heart beating, but it’s erratic and you need the feel of her vein jumping under your touch to know just how much damage has been done. 

Danny trembles at your fingers sliding across the marks on her neck, but she doesn’t fight you. And perhaps that’s what sets the spiral of fear off, that Danny, giant, summer solider or whatever, amazon warrior Danny has no sarcasm left, all of it drained- 

no. 

You find her hand, fingers dipping to find the pulse. It’s thready, weak, barely connecting from one beat to the next. 

You’d question if this was just another plan, some plot to test your loyalty, but when Danny’s eyes focus on you, really focus, you know this is nothing of that sort. 

This is different. 

There is a very real, tangible fear you read in Danny’s eyes, a fear that you recognize and can only be inspired by one person. 

Not even a person, mother dearest. 

“Laura….” Danny says, trying to sit up “She- they –“ you keep a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stay still, to stop exerting the energy she doesn’t have. 

“They took her.” 

You fill in the blanks for Danny, reading the subtle chaos in the room and letting recover recover as you (somehow) call Lafontaine and tell them to bring that “overly worrisome friend of yours”. 

To which Perry replies something in the background, but you have neither the attention span, nor the inclination to care when Laura’s life is hanging in the balance. 

***  
Laura feels the fear first, then, with trembling hands, the hard edges of her surroundings. The limited space, the darkness, the only thing missing, she realizes, is the blood. 

And the sounds of war to set her free. 

*** 

You prove your point by telling Danny that if she’s so ready to come with and face The Dean, then disarming LaFontaine should be no problem. 

In a fit of denial, Danny stands, sways, lunges for LaFontaine and falls. 

To which you catch her. 

And this, your arm wrapping around her, your inhuman strength lifting her back to the bed, this gentle contact is far more than you’ve ever had before with her. She grips at you as you sit down next to her, looking at the bandage on her neck so carefully attended to by Perry. You swallow and meet her gaze, and while you’ve never thought yourself as the comforting type, you certainly feel that way with how Danny leans into you. It is the defeated collapse of her shoulders that tell you, confirm to you with certainty that you must bring Laura home. 

Not just for you. 

But for Danny, helpless, suddenly very scared, Danny. 

You catch Danny’s eye again only as LaFontaine and Perry hug and speak quietly in the corer. You notice now, sitting with her, how Danny manages to be too big and so small all at once. She’s pale and when you focus on her heartbeat it’s racing and racing and you know she’s scared, that she hates being helpless like this. 

She reaches for your wrist and you’re surprised, not bothering to mask that fact either when Danny says carefully “Be safe.” 

You laugh “Right,” you say carefully, “if I wanted to do that I wouldn’t be here.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of Danny’s lips and she closes her eyes, swallowing her panic and squeezing your hand “Get her back.” She murmurs 

“I will.” You promise, realizing but not caring that this is far more casual and intimate a moment then you’d ever imagined sharing with squeezing her hand before standing up and looking at LaFontaine who’s holding Perry’s hand firmly “Ready?” you ask 

Perry looks like she’s about to argue, but a quiet look from LaFontaine stills the words in her throat and they nod, letting go of Perry’s hand “Sure am.” They say, only the tremor at the end giving away the true fear. 

***

Steady breaths do not come easy when one is aware of limited oxygen. Laura tries counting her inhales and exhales, but finds her counting to her racing heart instead and that only makes everything worse. 

She can not fight, will not scream, will not close her eyes, because that darkness is worse than this. 

In that darkness there is the feel of The Dean’s teeth on her neck and the sensation of blood leaving, energy draining. 

In that darkness there is dying. 

*** 

“Where do we go?” LaFontaine asks when you’re finally outside. 

The sound of the Zeta’s partying is of small comfort and you look up at the stars as you murmur your reply “I don’t know.” You pause, catching their shocked glance “This isn’t her usual game.” You explain “Leaving Danny alive is unusual for her. Leaving anyone alive is unusual for her.” 

They nod, processing this and finally LaFontaine says “What’s different about now? Why change?” 

“I’m different.” 

LaFontaine does not know the whole story, but they somehow trust you enough to just nod and accept that as the truth “Is your mother doing this to hurt you?” 

“To destroy me.” 

“And killing you wouldn’t do that?” they continue hurriedly as you look darkly in their direction “I mean, destroying you, all the burning in fire and stakes through hearts, that would destroy you literally. But she’s looking for a more,” LaFontaine pauses “metaphysical way to destroy you, right?” 

You nod, bitterly thinking that, somehow standing in the courtyard does not seem like it will get you any closer to Laura. And the beauty of the night is being tainted by the panic that’s creeping lower and lower down your spine. 

You do not like being afraid. 

*** 

Laura counts, starting at one, going to one hundred and then back down. 

Counting up gives her hope. 

Counting down reminds her that she’s losing oxygen, and time, and is trapped down here. 

***

There’s something on the tip of your tongue, the key to finding Laura is just past the tips of your fingers. 

LaFontaine is pacing the courtyard, talking to you, to the space, trying to make sense of what’s happened so far, what is still happening “We’re assuming Laura is alive.” They say “And your mother is keeping her alive assumedly to mess with you.” 

“Not just mess with me.” You say quietly “Destroy me.” 

“Okay, destroy you.” There is a pause and then LaFontaine says quietly “And why not just kill Laura?” 

You stiffen, “Because that’s quick.” You say harshly “Time will pass and I will move on, but she knows what Laura means to me and knows that she’d be cheating herself of her own pleasure if she just killed her.” 

As you say that, it all comes together, how she could not just kill you all those years ago, how she needed to punish you, torture you, draw out your suffering over centuries (turned decades, but still, the point stands). Your throat tightens and in a strangled voice you force out “I know what they’ve done.” 

LaFontaine stops pacing, looking at you, at your visceral reaction to your own realization and with a shaking voice they ask “What?” 

“I know.” You say slowly, uncurling your fingers from fists “I know what she’s done.” 

They speak quietly, fear at the situation, at you, resonating in their voice “How do we save Laura?” 

She, your mother, she knew you’d figure it out. She left just enough hints in the room, in the mess, in the careful displacement of Laura’s World War II books, that you’d figure it out. 

Buried alive. 

You shudder, your own memories flooding back. 

The blood filling your lungs every time you opened your mouth to scream, the impenetrable weight of the world crushing down on you, pressing further and further, seventy years of suffocation and of near-but-not-quite death. 

LaFontaine puts a hand on your shoulder, pulling you out of the memories “How do we rescue Laura?” they ask again. 

“The gardens.” 

“Gardens?” 

“I was buried, in Europe, under gardens.” 

It makes no sense to them and you know it, but you can’t explain the parallels, how your mother will want to destroy you by poisoning Laura with the same darkness in you. With the darkness and the suffocation and the fear that permeates everything, she wants to destroy you by destroying Laura. 

As you run to the gardens, straight through the Zeta party and out past the Summer Societies new lodge, you think about Laura. 

Trapped in the dark, in the silence, but she does not have the eternity you were trapped with. She has numbered hours, maybe minutes at this point. 

You run faster. 

You leave LaFontaine behind, not by choice, by out of necessity. They run, but can’t keep up and you’re in the sprawling gardens long before they are. You stand, the night suddenly very still and you close your eyes. 

You close your eyes and focus, straining to pick up that heart beat, her heart beat. 

Nothing. 

Nothing. 

Noth-ing. Noth-ing. Noth-ing. 

You’ve picked up the beat before you even realize it, before you can make sense of the sudden rhythm in your head. It’s slowly, very slow but it’s there. 

And it’s Laura’s. 

*** 

Laura does not get the sounds of war. 

She gets Carmilla pulling her from the dirt and splintered wood. She gets Carmilla wrapping her arms around her, brushing dirt and hair from her eyes. She gets pats on the back as she coughs, heaving as the world spins and she gets an arm curling around her waist as her knees buckle. 

She gets Carmilla whispering in the darkness “I’ve got you cupcake, I’ve got you.” over and over again until LaFontaine catches up. 

*** 

You do not let her go. 

You insist on carrying her, and she does not argue. She lays her head against your shoulder, looking up at the stars and breathing deeply. 

You share your bed with her when Danny is still passed out in her own. You wrap your arms around her, keeping her close when she whispers that she can’t sleep. You kiss her temple when she starts to shake and when there are tears rolling down her cheeks you wipe them carefully. 

You can not promise that she won’t get hurt, but you promise to protect her always, even in her dreams. 

And she mumbles something about a cat, and if that’s you, and how does that work because – 

You stop her with another kiss to her temple, and you taste the dirt there. Part of you thinks coaxing Laura to a shower would help, but she’s curled against you and her heart rate is just beginning to drop and you can’t bring yourself to disturb her tentative peace, this tentative safety she feels. 

Neither of you sleep; neither of you can, but she’s here and you’re here and Danny is alive (and also here) and right now, that’s enough for everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome any comments, especially if I missed the mark on LaFontaine's pronouns.


End file.
